


Home Sweet Home

by geckoed



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 15:33:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1433653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckoed/pseuds/geckoed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike sets up shop in the high school basement the summer before season seven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home Sweet Home

The little room smelled. Spike couldn’t tell where it was coming from but it smelled. A rat, maybe, curled up and rotting in the corner. The meat and the fur turning putrid and peeling back from the bone. Rotten all the way through. This was a good place for him, near the rotting deadness. They would get along nicely, him and the deadness. Kindred spirits, they were. Spike was pleased with his new home. It would do. A tiny smirk reminiscent of the old Spike, the killer, William the Bloody, appeared on his face.

"Bit nicer than a crypt, isn’t it?” he said, a bit of the old arrogance dancing among the syllables. He walked around the room, kicked some empty boxes aside. He felt saner than he had in months. He took a deep, calming, unnecessary breath. His smirk was turning into a real smile when a hissing voice whispered into his ear, “Monsters don’t deserve somewhere nice.”

Spike’s smile dropped and his eyes grew wide. The panic that had grown so close his heart resurfaced and he groaned. The voice continued, “Are you forgetting what you are? You’re a beast. Dirty thing.”

Spike whimpered and fell to the ground, wrapping his arms over his head. He remembered. He always remembered. The voice laughed, “Of course you remember, my sweet. How could you forget? I’m drowning in you, Summers.”

Spike groaned and clutched at his messy curls. If he pulled hard enough he was sure that he could pull out all of those memories, all of those sins. He could do it. He could. He pulled and pulled, feeling his hair coming out at the roots. He could do this.

"I love you,” a voice said, his voice, from the other side of the room. Not the dingy little basement room. No, it was the lower level of the crypt all lit up with candles. Romantic, that’s what he had been thinking as he walked around gently lighting each candle. He wanted to woo his Slayer and what better way than with chains, candles, a heartfelt confession, and the death of his former great love?

But it was wrong. All wrong. He saw that now. He saw it all from his corner. He saw Buffy’s face. She was glowing but it wasn’t for him. It was never for him. It would never be for him. No, it was the candlelight and the sweat from trying to break free and the disgust there was so plan, how had he missed it? Because he was a monster and this was how monsters loved, with hurt and vile things and he was vile. Vile monster.

"That’s right. You’re a monster. A vicious, snarling monster. She can’t even stand to look at you,” the voice hissed.

"I’m not that anymore. I’m not. I’mnoti’mnoti’mnoti’mnot,” Spike repeated over and over and over again until it blurred into one unintelligible sound. He was different. He was better.

In the crypt, Dru laughed. Her manic laugh that used to mean death and destruction and sex and a bloody good time. But now he cringed. She was laughing at him, “I knew. I knew before you did.”

"Oh, my poor boy,” the voice whispered and Spike thought it sounded like his mother.

"Mother?” he whispered into the darkness. The crypt was gone. He was back in his dead room. But he wasn’t alone.

"Oh, William, what’s happened to you?” the person asked. He looked up and there she was. Mother, healthy and looking at him with such tender affection that he started to cry.

"Oh Mother, I’m so lost,” he said, reaching his hand out to her. She jerked back, her face growing dark and angry. Her features shifted and for a second she was a vampire but that faded back to human, blind rage.

"Don’t touch me, vile thing, demon wearing my son’s face. Look at you, wallowing in the dirt,” she spat. Her hands bunched up her skirts as she backed away. Further and further until he could see her thighs. She held her dress in one hand as the other slipped into the apex between her thighs.

"Do you remember what you did to me, demon? Do you? Do you remember the taste of your mother’s blood? Do you remember the way I writhed against you, fighting for my life? Do you remember what it was like to penetrate me, to slip some small part you into me and have your fill? Do you want to try again? Want to have a taste of dear, sweet mommy?” she continued, her hand moving beneath the folds of her skirts. Her cheeks were flushed and her features kept shifting between vampire and human until she melted into the darkness.

Spike sat in silence. His heart was burning. Burning fire-y hot, melting though his meat and his skin and his shirt. He was dying from the heat of his burning heart. He needed to get rid of it. He needed it to be gone. He ripped his shirt off and dug his nails into his chest. He was going to claw it out, rip it from his chest, and turn to dust. It was the only way. It would be better for everyone if he weren’t around. He didn’t have some great purpose. He was a monster, a beast that deserved to be put down. He gasped when his nails broke the skin. Blood pooled around his fingertips and he laughed.

"Now, now, my boy. Let’s not be hasty,” a voice said from behind him. Angelus leaned forward and chuckled in Spike’s ear. Spike spun around, his fist flying on instinct alone. But he missed and his hand crashed into the wall. Howling in pain, he clutched his hand to his chest and fell back to the ground.

"That’s my boy! There’s the fighter! There’s the vampire who took out two Slayers!” Angelus yelled. He clapped his hands and smiled at Spike. It was that indulgent, arrogant smile that Spike has learned to hate over the years. It made his blood boil.

"You’re not real,” Spike growled.

"Oh, Willy, you wound me. Of course I’m not real. You’re crazy! Nothing is real! Nothing but the blood on your hands. Remember all those lives we ended? I remember. Every. Single. One,” Angelus said as he crouched down at Spike’s eye level. Whatever he saw in Spike’s eyes made him smirk, “Of course you remember. Maybe not their names but their faces are there, aren’t they? The way they tasted? Oh yeah, you remember. What about Spain, Christmas day, remember that? I do. I think it was your finest moment with me. You saw that woman running home. Her face all flustered, smelling of wine and incense and holy water. Oh, you liked her. Liked her so much that we followed her home, slaughtered her family, and brought the girls the hearts of the two children. How old were they? Eight and six?”

"Shut up,” Spike whispered through his tears. He was crying again. When did he start crying again? Over Angelus’s shoulder Spike could see the family. Their mouths were open in violent screams but he couldn’t hear them. He couldn’t even see the father’s face through all the blood and broken bone. Angelus had smashed his face into the ground. The mother’s dress was torn down the middle, her breasts exposed and bleeding. He had bit into her there and laughed when her children had cried.

"Go away,” Spike whimpered.

"Oh no, my boy. No. We don’t go away. You carry us with you, don’t you Spikey? You can’t cry us away. Cause we are right here,” Angelus whispered as he pointed at Spike’s heart, “We’ll always be there. Always. We seeped into your bones. Me. Dru. Darla. The evil nasty things you used to love so much. We’re deep inside you. You’re a monster, Willy, to the core.”

"And to think, you thought I could ever love you,” another voice said. A familiar voice. A voice he loved.

"Buffy,” Spike whispered. She was there, staring at him with disgust. Angelus smirked and stood up. He bowed at the Slayer, winked at Spike, and melted into the shadows.

"You’re disgusting,” she said.

He nodded and bowed his head, “Buffy. Buffy, I’m so sorry.”

"You’re sorry? Please. Beasts like you don’t know what sorry means. You’re poison. Everything you touch rots,” she spat. Spike cringed with every word. She was right. Of course she was right. He was a monster. A horrible monster. He didn’t deserve to still be around. He had lived so many lives and destroyed them all. Poison.

His hands clawed at his chest. That damned heart was still there, still aching and keeping him alive. No more. No. he was going to do it this time. He was going to rip it out. He was going to show her how sorry he was. The ultimate sacrifice and then she would know that he truly loved her and didn’t want her to suffer anymore in his presence. She would know that he sacrificed himself for her and she would forgive him and that’s all that mattered. Her. It was all about her.

"STOP!” Buffy screamed. She stamped her foot and glared at him. His hands stopped instantly. Anything for the lady. He stared at her. Awed. She was crying. For him?

"You’re crying,” he said. Angrily, she wiped at her face. 

“You don’t get to kill yourself. You don’t get to do that. You deserve to suffer more,” she said but her words had lost their venom. Slowly, he stood up and looked her in the eye. There was a war of emotions going on behind her beautiful eyes.

“Buffy?” he asked, his hand coming up to brush her cheek. Before he could touch her beautiful skin she said, “I have feelings for you. I do. But it’s not love. I could never trust you enough for it to be love.”

“Stop it,” Spike said. He knew those words. He knew. He knew. Heknewheknewheknew.

“Spike no … Spike stop … SPIKE!” she continued. Spike covered his ears and walked backwards until he slammed against the wall. HEKNEWHEKNEWHEKNEWHEKNEW.

“Ask me again why I could never love you.”

He slid down the wall, squeezing his eyes shut and whimpering, “Stop. Please stop.”

“I COULD NEVER LOVE YOU.”

“Think of the blood draining from that woman’s face,” Angelus whispered.

“Do it, William, suck mommy dry,” his mother moaned.

“Stop it.”

“Monssssster,” the hissing voice said in his ear.

“Remember your cock getting hard. Dru licking the blood from your lips.”

“You’re a thing. You don’t have feelings.”

“Yes, my sweet William, kill mommy. Make her dead. Drink her down.”

“MONSSSSTER.”

Spike shook and nodded his head. He knew. He knew. Monster. Gross dirty thing. Nasty beast in the darkness with the dead smell and blood on his chest.


End file.
